Strange house we must keep and fill. House that eats, and pleads, and kills.
▍ AN ORIGINAL STORY ╱ romantic melodrama!
❪ m!oc & m!oc ❫
❪ f!oc & m!oc ❫
written...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
CHAPTER SEVEN.Green With Envy
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Cassidy was burning with something unfamiliar. Something downright malevolent. His eyes coast over his uncle's features. He had always known him to capture other's attention. With his sharp nose and well-defined jaw. His jet black hair, the sliver of gray swooped and slathered with pomade. His seasonally bronzed skin, and faultless smile.
His tongue scrapes the slightly uneven edges of his lower row of teeth as Killian's laughter burst from his spring of his throat. His slender fingers splay along the back of Seth's chair.
Charles stares, practically repulsed by the sight.
But for once, Cassidy doesn't give a damn about his father's perception. All the boy sees is streams of red, and aches of something sinister.
He clears his throat, fingers braced along the edge of the table. Josette eyes him conspicuously when the words: "If I may be excused, Father?" tumble out of his wine-stained lips.
Killian's laughter dies, as well as the smile once adorning Seth's delicate features.
Charles gnaws on the reddened piece of meat between his teeth. With a swift bob of his head, Cassidy raises to stand.
"Where are you off to precisely, Brother?" Josette forces out. Her eyes widen with surprise, as if startled by the sound of her own voice and train of thought.
Cassidy reigns in his agony and emits composure, "I think I will phone Lorna. There is a welcoming party in order, is there not?"
He's alluding to the arrival of his uncle, yet his eyes don't find him as they normally would. Seth is rattled as a direct result of this. Killian remains tight-lipped, but his eyes do not stray from Cassidy's face.
His smile is tight, like it was coerced from the bounds of his somber soul. His shoulders carry that same weight. He is the makings of untruth. He is bred from it. Killian finds that pitiful, so much so that his lips turn toward the floor at such a revelation.
And who on earth is Lorna?
Charles' voice cuts through the, now unspokenly tense, air. "I thought you two had an understanding?"
Cassidy swallows. His spit feels like blades. It slices as it journeys downward, "I believe I lost my bearings. Misinterpreted my true stance. I was hoping to reconcile."
Oh, Killian thinks to himself. He averts his gaze toward his half-consumed plate of cod. He yearns to be gutted as the creature he had been nibbling on all evening once was.
